Guided Sleep Meditation & Sleep Hypnosis from Sleep Cove - Mystery Sleep Story - Sherlock Holmes and The Boscombe Valley Mystery

Episode Date: February 20, 2022

The Adventure of Sherlock Holmes - The Boscombe Valley Mystery Please leave a 5-star review & SUBSCRIBE on Apple and Spotify. Sleep Cove Premium Become a Premium Member for Bonus Episodes & Ad-Free listening: Visit ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.sleepcove.com/support⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ and become a Premium Member. ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Get Instant Access⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ and sign up in two taps. The Sleep Cove Premium Feed includes: - Access to over 400 Ad-free Episodes - Regular Exclusive Bonus Episodes - A Back Catalogue of Dozens of Exclusive Episodes - Full Audiobooks like Alice in Wonderland - Your name read out on the Show - Our Love! Get your 7-day free trial:⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠https://sleepcove.com/support⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ For Apple users, click the TRY FREE button for a 2-week free trial and become a Premium Member Today. Support our Sponsors: This episode of Sleep Cove is brought to you by BetterHelp. Give online therapy a try at⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠betterhelp.com/sleepcove ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠and get on your way to being your best self. Our Sister Shows: - Calm Cove - ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://link.chtbl.com/bgSKfkbt⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠- Relaxing Music & Ambient Sounds - Mysteries at Midnight - Mystery Bedtime Stories - ⁠⁠⁠https://link.chtbl.com/skj6YFah⁠⁠⁠ - Let's Begin - Daytime Meditations with wake sections at the end - ⁠⁠⁠https://link.chtbl.com/Z--DgSH4 ⁠⁠⁠ - YouTube Bedtime Story Channel -⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠https://rb.gy/t7wyjk⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ - YouTube Sleep Hypnosis & Meditation Channel - ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.youtube.com/channel/UClE6WJgPYRBtwVQ1qDBrbqw Connect: - Join the Newsletter for a Bonus Meditation -⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠https://www.sleepcove.com/bonus⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ - Facebook:⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠https://rb.gy/azpdrd⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ - Instagram:⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠https://www.instagram.com/sleep_cove/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ - TikTok:⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠https://www.tiktok.com/@sleepcovechris⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Recommended Products: Comfortable Sleep Headphones -⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠https://www.sleepcove.com/headphones⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ The Best Mattress from Puffy: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://sleepcove.com/puffy⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Our Sister Shows in more detail: Calm Cove is our music channel, where you can find Relaxing Music, White Noise and Nature Sounds - ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://link.chtbl.com/bgSKfkbt⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Let’s Begin is our brand new Day Meditation podcast. Start your day feeling relaxed and positive, or take some time out to unwind with these calming meditations with wakeners at the end so that you can continue your day. If you love our bedtime stories, check out Mysteries at Midnight, our brand-new podcast dedicated to the mystery stories our listeners love so much. Enjoy even more from Poirot, Sherlock and more classic mystery tales. _______________ All Content by Sleep Cove is for educational or entertainment purposes and does not provide or replace professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. Always seek the advice of your medical professional before making any changes to your treatment and if in any doubt, contact your doctor. Please listen in a place where you can safely go to sleep. Sleep Cove is not responsible or liable for any loss, damage or injury arising from the use of this content. _________________ Sleep Cove content includes guided sleep meditations, sleep hypnosis (hypnotherapy), sleep stories (visualizations) and Bedtime Stories for adults and grown-ups, all designed to help you get a great night's sleep Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Back by popular demand, the Sleep Cove Premium Sale has started. For the next two months, you can get Sleep Cove Premium for free. That's right, completely free. There you'll get access to all my exclusive episodes, as well as every episode, add free. You'll also have access to my own. other podcasts and their exclusive and ad-free content too. Sleepcove can't carry on without your support. So if you want to become a VIP member and get access to our premium feed,

please go to sleepcove.com slash support. That's sleepcove.com slash support. If you can't support the show right now, please subscribe with a bell to get alerts on all new free content thank you have you ever gazed in wonder at the great pyramid have you marvelled at the golden face of Tudankhamun

or admired the delicate features of Queen Nefertiti if you have you'll probably like the History of Egypt podcast every week we explore tales of this ancient culture The history of Egypt is available wherever you get your podcasting fix. Come, let me introduce you to the world of ancient Egypt. And welcome to Sleep Cove, the place to get a great night's sleep. Please listen to this recording in a place where you can safely go to sleep. Tonight, I'll be reading the short story, the Boscombe Valley Mystery,

taken from the adventures of Sherlock Holmes. This is a classic Sherlock Holmes tale, where Sherlock must understand who the real murderer is. There are descriptions of death and murder within this story, so if you'd rather listen to something more peaceful, please choose another recording from Stham Cove. Begin We were seated at breakfast one morning my wife and I, when the maid brought in a tennagram. It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran in this way. Have you a couple of days to spare? Have just been wired for from West of England in connection with Boscombe Valley tragedy?

Shall we glad if you will come with me? Air and scenery perfect. Leave Paddington by Courtpastor, What do you say, dear? said my wife, looking across at me. Will you go? I really don't know what to say. I have a fairly long list at present, I replied. Oh, Anne Struther would do your work for you. You've been looking a little pale lately. I think that the change would do good for you, and you are always so interested in Mr Sherlock Holmes's cases. I should be ungrateful if I were not.

Seeing what I gained through one of them, I answered. But if I am to go, I must back at once, for I have only half an hour. My experience of camp-life in Afghanistan had at least had the effect of making me a prompt and ready traveller. My wants were few and simple, so that and less than the time stated I was in a cab with my valets, rattling away to Paddington Station. Shulah Combs was pacing up and down the platform, his tall, gaunt figure, made even gaunter and taller by his long grey travelling cloak and close-fitting cloth cap. It is very good of you to come, Watson, said he. It makes a considerable difference to me, having someone with me whom I can thoroughly rely. Local aid is always either worthless or else biased.

If you will keep the two corner seats, I shall get the tickets. We have the carriage to ourselves, save for an immense litter of papers, which homes had brought with him. Among these he rummaged and read, with intervals of note-taking and of meditation, until we were past Reading. Then he suddenly rolled them all into a gigantic ball and tossed them up onto the rack. Have you heard anything of this case? He asked. Not a word. I have not seen a paper for some days, I replied.

The London Press has not had very full accounts. I've just been looking through all the recent papers in order to master the particulars. It seems, from what I gather, to be one of those simple cases which are so extremely difficult. That sounds a little paradoxical, I replied. But it is profoundly true. Singularity is almost invariably a clue. the more featureless and commonplace a crime is, the more difficult it is to bring it home. In this case, however, they have established a very serious case against the son of the murdered man.

It is a murder then, I said. Well, it is conjectured to be so. I shall take nothing for granted until I have the opportunity of looking personally into it. I will explain the state of things to you as far as I have been able to understand it. In a few words. Boscombe Valley is a country district not far from Ross in Hertfordshire. The largest landed proprietor in that part is a Mr. John Turner, who made his money in Australia and returned some years ago to the old country.

One of the farms that he held, that of Hatherley, was led to Mr Charles McCarthy, who was also an ex-Australian. The men have known each other in the colonies, so that it was not unnatural that when they came to settle down, they should do so as near to each other as possible. Turner was apparently a rich man, so McCarthy became his tenant, but still remained, it seems, upon terms of perfect equality, as they were frequently together. McCarthy had one son, a lad of 18, and Turner had only a daughter of the same age, but neither of them had wives living.

They appeared to have avoided the society of the neighbouring English families, and to have led retired lives, though both the McCarthy's were fond of sport and were frequently seen at the race meetings of the neighbourhood McCarthy kept two servants, a man and a girl Turner had a considerable household some half a dozen at least that is as much as I've been able to gather about the families now for the facts

on June 3rd that is McCarthy left his home at Hathalie about three in the afternoon, and walked down to the Boscom Pool, which is a small lake formed by the spreading out of the stream, which runs down the Boscom Valley. He had been out with a serving man in the morning at Ross, and he had told the man that he must hurry, as he had an appointment of importance to keep it free. From that appointment, he never came back alive. From Howley Farmhouse to the Boscombe Pool is a quarter of a mile

and two people saw him as he passed over this ground. One was an old woman whose name is not mentioned and the other was William Crowder, a gatekeeper in the employ of Mr. Turner. Both these witnesses disposed that Mr McCarthy was walking alone. The gamekeeper adds that within a few minutes of seeing Mr McCarthy pass, he had seen his son, Mr James McCarthy, going the same way with a gun under his arm. To the best of his belief, the father was actually in sight at the time, and the son was following him. He thought no more of the matter until he heard in the evening of the tragedy that had occurred.

The two McCarthys were seen after the time when William Crowder, the gamekeeper, lost sight of them. The Bosca pool is thickly wooded round, with just a fringe of grass and of wreaths round the edge. A girl of fourteen, Patience Moran, who is the daughter of the lodgekeeper of the Boscom Valley estate, was in one of the woods picking flowers. She states that while she was there, she saw at the border of the wood and cloaks by the lake,

Mr. McCarthy and his son, and they appeared to be having a violent quarrel. She heard Mr. McCarthy, the elder using very strong language to his son, and she saw the latter raise up his hand as if to strike his father. She was so frightened by their violence that she ran away and told her mother when she reached home that she had left the two McCarthy's quarrelling near Boscombe Paul, and that she was afraid that they were going to fight.

She had hardly said the words when young Mr. McCarthy came running up to the lodge, to say that he had found his father dead in the woods, and to ask for the help of the lodgekeeper. He was much excited, without either his gun or his hat, and his right hand and sleeve were observed to be stained with fresh blood. On following him, they found the dead body, stretched out upon the grass, besides the pallhead had been beaten in by repeated blows of some heavy, blunt weapon. The injuries were such as might very well have been inflicted by the butt end of his son's gun, which was found lying on the grass within a few paces on the body. The young man was in and the inquest on Tuesday. He was on ward before the magistrate St. Ross, who have referred the case to the next assizes. those on the main facts of the case as they came out before the coroner and the police court.

I could hardly imagine a more damning case. If ever circumstantial evidence pointed to a criminal, it does so here. Circumstantial evidence is a very tricky thing, answered Holmes thoughtfully. It may seem to point very straight to one thing, But if you shift your own point of view a little, you may very possible that he is indeed the culprit. There are several people in the neighbourhood, however, has referred the case to me, and hence it is that two middle-aged gentlemen are flying westward at 50 miles an hour, instead of quietly digesting their breakfasts at home.

I'm afraid are so obvious that you will find little credit to be gained out of this case. There is nothing more than an obvious fact, he answered laughing. Besides, you may chance to hit upon some obvious facts, which have been by no means obvious to Mr. Lestrade. You know me too well to think that I am boasting when I say that I shall either confirm or destroy. destroy his theory by means which he is quite incapable of employing. To take the first example to hand, I am very clearly perceived that in your bedroom the window

is upon the right hand side, and yet I question whether Mr. Lestrade would have even noted so self-evident characterizes you. You shave every morning, and in this season you shave by the sun. light, but since your shaving is less and less complete as we get farther back on the left side, until it becomes positively slovenly as we get round the angle of the jaw. It is surely very clear that the side is less illuminated. I could not imagine a man of your habits, looking at himself in an equal light and being satisfied with such a result.

I only quote this as a trivial example of observation and interference. Therein lies my metier, and it is just possible that it may be of some service in this investigation, which lies before us. There are one or two minor points which were brought out in the inquest. What are they? I said. It appears that is a very important. arrest did not take place at once, but after the return to Hatharley Farm. On the inspector of Constabulary informing him that he was a prisoner, he remarked that

he was not surprised to hear it, and that it was no more than his deserves. This observation of his had the natural effect of removing any traces of doubt which might have remained in the minds of the coroner's jewellery. It was a confession, I exclaimed. No, for it was followed by a protestation of innocence coming on the top of such a damning series of events. It was at least a most suspicious remarked, I replied. On the contrary, said Holmes, it is the brightest rift which I cannot present see in the clouds.

However innocent he might be, he could not be such an absolute imbecile as not to see that the circumstances were very black against him. Had he appeared surprised at his own arrest or feigned indignation at it, I should have looked upon it as highly suspicious. because such surprise or anger would not be natural under the circumstances, and yet might appear to be the best policy to a scheming man. His frank acceptance of the situation marks him as either an innocent man or else as a man of considerable self-restraint and firmness. As to his remark about his deserts, it was also not unnatural. if you consider that he stood beside the dead body of his father. He had that very day so far forgotten his filial duty as to bandy words with him, and even

according to the little girl whose evidence is so important, to raise his hand as if to strike him. The self-reproach and contrition which are displayed in his remark, appear to me to be the signs of a healthy mind rather than a guilty one. I shook my head. Many men have been hanged on far slighter evidence, I remarked. So they have retorted homes, and many men have been wrongfully hanged. What is the young man's own account of the matter?

It is, I'm afraid, not very encouraging to his supporters. though there are one or two points in it which are suggestive, you'll find it here, you may read it for yourself. He picked out from his bundle a copy of the local Herodfisher paper, and having turned down the sheet, he pointed out to the paragraph in which the unfortunate young man had given his own statement of what had occurred. I settled myself down in the corner of the carriage and read it very carefully. It ran in this way. Mr. James McCarthy, the only son of the deceased, was then called and gave evidence as follows. I had been away from home for three days at Bristol and had only just returned upon the morning of last Monday the third. My father was absent from home at the time of my arrival, and I was informed by the maid that he had driven over to Ross with John Cobb the groom.

Shortly after my return, I heard the wheels of his trap in the yard, and looking out of the window, I saw him get out and walk rapidly out of the yard, though I was not aware in which direction he was going. I took my gun and strolled out in the direction of the Boscom Pool with the intention of visiting the rabbit Warren which is upon the other side On my way I saw William Crowder a gamekeeper as he had stated in his evidence but he is mistaken in thinking that I was following my father I had no idea that he was in front of me

When about a hundred yards from the pool I heard a cry of Cooey, which was a usual signal between my father and myself and found him standing by the pool. He appeared to be much surprised at seeing me and asked me rather roughly what I was doing there. A conversation ensued which led to high words and almost to blows, for my father was man of very violent temper. Seeing that his passion was becoming ungovernable, I left him and returned towards Hutherly foe. I had not gone more than a hundred and fifty yards, however, than I heard a hideous outcry behind me, which caused me to run back again, expiring upon

the ground with his head terribly injured. I drawn my gun and held him in in my arms, but he was almost instantly expired. I knelt beside him for some minutes, and then made way to Mr. Turner's lodgekeeper, his house being the nearest, to ask for assistance. I saw no one near my father when I returned, and I have no dear how he came by his injuries. He was not a popular man, being somewhat cold, as far as I know, no act of thing further, coroner said, did your father make any statement to you before he died? The witness. He mumbled a few words, but I could only catch some allusion to a rat.

What did you understand by that? I thought he was delirious. The coroner said, What was a little bit? the point upon which you and your father had this final quarrel. The witness replied, I should prefer not to answer. I'm afraid I must press, said the coroner. It is really impossible for me to tell you. I can assure you that it has nothing to do with the sad tragedy which followed. The coroner pressed on, not point out to you that your refusal to answer will prejudice your case considerably in any future proceedings which may arise.

The witness was steadfast. Kewi was a common signal between you and your father? It was. How was it then that he uttered it before he saw you and before he even knew that you had returned from Bristol? The witness with some considerable confusion said, I do not know, a juryman spoke. Did you see nothing which aroused your suspicions

when you returned on hearing the cry and found your father fatally injured? Nothing definite, replied the witness. The coroner replied, what do you mean? I was so disturbed and excited as I rushed out into the open that I could think of nothing except of my father. Yet I had a vague impression that as I ran forward, something lay upon the ground to the left of me.

It seemed to me that it to be something grey in colour, a coat of some sort, or a plaid perhaps. When I rose from my father, I looked around for it, but it was gone. I mean that it disappeared before you went for help, for the coroner. Yes, it was gone. You cannot say what it was. No, I had a feeling something was there. How far away from the body? A dozen yards or so.

And how far from the edge of the wood? About the same. If it was removed, it was while you were within a dozen yards of it, but with my back towards it. This concludes the examination of the witness. I see, said I as I glanced down the column, in his concluding remarks was rather severe upon young McCarthy. He calls attention and with reason to the discrepancy about his father having signalled to him before seeing him,

also to his refusal to give details of his conversation with his father and his singular account of his father's dying words. They are all, as he remarks, very much as he. against the sun softly to himself, and stretched himself out above both you and the coroner have been at some pains, said he, the single out the very strongest points in the young man's favour. Don't you see that you have alternatively given him credit for having too much imagination, and too little? Too little if he could not invent a cause of quarrel, which he could which would give him the sympathy of the jewellery. Too much if he evolved from his own inner consciousness, anything so alterer as a dying reference

to Iraq? And the incident on the vanishing cloth? No, sir, I shall approach this case from the point of view that what this young man says is true and we shall see whither that hypothesis will lead us. is my pocket-book by truck, and not another word shall I say of this case until we are on the scene of action. We lunch at Swindon, and I see that we shall be there in twenty minutes. It was nearly four o'clock when we were at last, after passing through the beautiful Stroud Valley, and over the broad, gleaming severn, found herself at the pretty little country road of Ross,

Ferret-like man, furtive and sly-looking, was waiting for us upon the platform. In spite of the light brown dustcoat and leather leggings, which he wore in deference to his rustic surroundings, I had no difficulty in recognising Lestrade of Scotland Yard. With him we drove to the Hereford Arms, where a room had already been engaged for us. I have ordered a carriage, said Lestrade as we sat over a cup of tea. I knew your energetic nature and that you would not be happy until you had been on the scene of the crime. It was very nice and complimentary of you, Holmes answered. It is entirely a question of barometric pressure.

Lestrade looked startled. I do not quite follow, he said. How is the glass? 29 I see. No wind and not a cloud in the sky. I have a caseful of cigarettes here which need smoking and the sofa is very much superior in the usual country hotel abomination.

I do not think that it is probable that I shall use the carriage tonight. Lestrade laughed indulgently. You have no doubt always. already formed your conclusions from the newspapers, he said. The case is as plain as a bike staff, and the more one goes into it, the plainer it becomes. Still, of course, one can't refuse a lady,

and such a very positive one too. She has heard of you and would have your opinion, though I repeatedly told her that there was nothing which you could do which I had not already done. Why, bless my soul, here is our carriage at the door. He had hardly spoken, before mere rushed into the room, one of the most lovely young women that I've ever seen in my life. Her violet eyes shiny, her lips parted,

a pink flush upon her cheeks, all thought of her natural reserve, lost in her overpowering excitement and concern. Oh, Mr Sherlock Holmes, she cried, glancing from one to the other of us, and finally with a woman's quick intuition fastening upon my companion, I am so glad that you have come, I have driven doubt to tell you so. I know that James didn't do it, I know it, and I want you to start upon your work, knowing it too. Never let yourself doubt upon that point.

we have known each other since we were little children, and I know his faults as no one else does, but he is too tender-hearted to hurt a fly. Such a charge is absurd to anyone who really knows him. I hope we may clear him, Miss Turner, Sir Chulchose, you may rely upon my doing all that I can. But you have read the evidence,

who have formed some conclusion, Do you not see some loophole, some flaw? Do you not think yourself that he is innocent? I think that is very probable, said Holmes. There now, she cried, throwing back her head and looking to finally add Lestrade. You hear, he gives me hopes. Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. I'm afraid that my colleague has been a little quick informing his conclusions.

he said. But he is right, she replied. Oh, I know that he is right. James never did it, and about his quarrel with his father, I am sure that the reason why he would not speak about it to the coroner was because I was concerned in it. It is no time for me to hide anything. James and his father had many disagreements about me.

Mr. McCarthy was very anxious that they were. There should be a marriage between us. James and I have always loved each other as brother and sister, but of course he is young and has seen very little of life yet. He naturally did not wish to do anything like that yet. So there were quarrels, and this, I am sure, was one of them. Your father? Asked Holmes, was he in favour of such a union?

No, he was adverse to it also. No one but Mr. McCarthy was in favour of it. A quick blush passed over her fresh young face, as Holmes shot one of his keen, questioning glances at her. Thank you for this information, said he. May I see your father if I call tomorrow? I am afraid the doctor won't allow it. The doctor, said Holmes.

Yes, have you not heard, poor father has never been strong for years back, But this has broken him down completely. He has been taken to bed and Dr. Willow say that he is a wreck and that his nervous system is shattered. Mr McCarthy was the only man alive who had known Dad in the old days in Victoria. Her in Victoria, that is important. Yes, and the mines. Quite so are the gold mines, where, as I understand,

Mr. Turner made his money. Yes, certainly, she replied. Thank you, Miss Turner. You have been of material assistance to me. You will tell me if you have any news tomorrow, she asked thoughtfully. No doubt you will go to prison to see James. Oh, if you do, Mr. Holmes, do tell him that I know him to be innocent. Miss Turner, I must go home now.

Her dad is very ill, and he misses me, so if I leave. Goodbye and God help you in your undertaking. She hurried from the room as impulsively as she had entered. I'm ashamed of you, Holmes, said Lestrade with dignity after a few minutes silence. Why should you raise hopes, which you are bound to disappoint? I am not over tender of heart. but I call it cruel that I see my way to clearing James McCarthy, said Holmes. Have you an order to see him in prison?

Yes, but only for you and me. I shall reconsider my resolution about going out. We have still time to take a train to Hereford and see him tonight? Ample of time, said Lestrade. Then let us do so. Watson, I fear that you will find it very slow, but I shall only be away a couple of hours. I walked down to the station with them, and then wandered through the streets of the little town, finally returning to the hotel, where I lay upon the sofa and tried to interest myself in a yellow-backed novel.

The puny plot of the story was so thin, however, when compared to the deep mystery through which we were groping, and I found my attention wander so continually from the action to the fact. But I at last flung it across the room and gave myself up entirely to a consideration of the events of the day. Supposing that this an happy young's story was absolutely true, then what hellish thing, what absolutely unforeseen and extraordinary calamity could have occurred between the time that he parted from his father and the moment when, drawn back by his screams, he rushed into the glade.

It was something terrible and deadly. What could it be? Might not the nature of the injuries reveal something to my medical instincts, the county paper, which contained a verbatim account of the inquest. In the surgeon's disposition, it was stated that the posterior third of the left parietal bone and the left half of the occipital bone had been shattered by a heavy blow from a blunt weapon. I marked the spot upon my own head.

Clearly such a blow must have been struck from behind. That was to some extent in favour of the accused, as when seen quarrelling he was face to face with his father. Still it did not go for very much, for the older man might have turned his back before the blow fell. Still it might be worthwhile to call Holmes' attention to it. Then there was the peculiar dying reference to a rat. What could that mean? It could not be delirium. A man dying from a sudden blow does not commonly become delirious.

No, it was more likely to be an attempt to explain how he met his fate. But what could it indicate? I put my brains together to find some possible explanation, and then the incident of the grey cloth seen by young Mr McCarthy. If that was true, the murderer must have dropped some part of his dress, presumably his overcoat in his flight, and must have had the hardihood to return to carry it away at the instant when the sun was kneeling with his back

turned not a dozen paces off. What a tissue of mysteries and improbabilities the whole thing was. I do not wonder at Lestrade's opinion, and yet I had so much faith in Sherlock Holmes's insight that I could not lose hope as long as every fresh fact seemed to strengthen his conviction of a young McCarthy's innocence. It was late before Sherlock Holmes returned. The Lestrade was staying in lodgings in the town. The glass still keeps very high.

He remarked as he sat down. It is of importance that it should not rain before we are able to go over the ground, should be at his very best and keenest for such nice work as that. I do not wish to go it when fagged by a long journey. I have seen young McCarthy. What did you learn from him? I said. Nothing, exclaimed Holmes. Could he throw no light?

None at all. I was inclined to think at one time that he knew who had done it and was screening him or her but I'm convinced now that he is as puzzled as everyone else. He is not a very quick-witted youth

though comely to look at and I should think sound at heart. I cannot admire his taste I remarked. It is indeed a fact that he was averse to marriage with so charming a young lady as this Miss Turner

Ah, thereby hangs a rather painful tale This fellow is madly insanely in love with her But some two years ago While he was only a lad And before he really knew her She had been away five years

At a boarding school What does the idiot do But get into the clutches of a barmaid in Bristol, and marry her at her registry office. No one knows a word of the matter, but you can imagine how maddening it must be to him to be upbraided for not doing what he should give his very eyes to do, but what he knows to be absolutely impossible. It was sheer frenzy of this sort which made him throw his hands up into the air when his father, and the very last interview was goading him on to propose to Miss Turner.

On the other hand, he had no means of supporting himself, and his father, who was by all accounts a very hard man, would have thrown him over utterly had he known the truth. It was with his barmaid wife that he spent the last three days in Bristol, and his father did not know where he was. Mark that point It is of importance Good has come out of evil

However for the barmaid Finding from the papers That he is in serious trouble And likely to be hanged Has thrown him over utterly And has written to him To say that she has a husband already In the Bermuda Dockland

So that there is really no tie Between them I think that bit of news has consoled young McCarthy for all that he has suffered. If he is innocent, who has done it? I replied. Er, who, I would call your attention very particularly to two points. One is that the murdered man had an appointment with someone at the pool and that for someone could not have been his son, for his son was away and he did not know when he would return.

The second is that the murdered man was heard to cry, Cui, before he knew that his son had returned. Those are the crucial points, upon which the case depends. And now let us talk about George Meredith, if you please, and we shall leave all.

There was no rain, as Holmes had foretold, and the morning broke, bright and at nine o'clock, Lestrade called for us with the carriage and we set off for Havily Farm and the Boscom Pool There is serious news this morning

Lestrade observed It is said that Mr Turner of the hall Is so ill that his life is despaired of An elderly man I presume Said Holmes About 60 But his constitution has been shattered by his life abroad And he has been in failing health for some time

This business has had a very bad effect upon him. He was an old friend of McCarthy's, and, Amayad, a great benefactor to him, for I have learned that he gave him heavily farm rent-free. Indeed, that is interesting, said Holmes. Oh yes, in a hundred other ways he's helped him. Everybody about here speaks of his kindness to him. really does it not strike you as a little singular that his McCarthy who appears have had little of his own and who have been under such obligations to Turner should still talk of marrying his son to Turner's daughter who is presumably heiress to the estate and that in such a very cocksure manner as if it were merely a case of a proposal

and all else would follow. It is more strange since we know that Turner himself was averse to the idea. The daughter told us much, did you not deduce something from that? We have got the deductions and interferences, said Lestrade, we hear me. I find it hard enough to tackle facts, Holmes, without flying away after theories and fancies. You are right, said. Holmes de Merley. You do find it very hard to tackle the facts. I grasped one fact which you seem to find it difficult to get hold of, replied Restrade with some warmth. And that is, that McCarthy

Sr. met his death from McCarthy Jr. and that all theories to the contrary are the merest moonshine. Well, moonshine is a brighter thing than fog, said Holmes, laughing, but I have a very thing than fog, said Holmes, laughing, but I'm I am very much mistaken if this is not Hotherley Farm. Yes it is. It was a widespread, comfortable-looking building. Two-storied, slate roof, with great yellow blotches of lichen upon the grey walls. The drawn blinds and the smokeless chimneys, however, gave it a stricken look, as though the weight of this horror still lay heavy upon it,

showed us the boots which our master wore at the time of his death, and also a pair of the sons, though not the pair which he had then had. Having measured these very carefully from seventh or eighth different points, Holmes desired to be led to the courtyard from which we all followed the winding track which led to Boscombe Paul. Sherlock Holmes was transformed when he was hot upon such a scent as this, and logition of Baker Street would have failed to recognise him. His face flushed and darkened. His brows were drawn into two hard black lines, while his eyes shone out from beneath them, with a steely glitter.

face was bent downward, his shoulders bowed, his lips compressed, and the veins stood out like quick-cord in his long sinewy neck. His nostrils seemed to dilate with a purely animal lust, concentrated upon the matter. Whiffly and silently, he made his way along the track, which ran through the meadows, and so by the way, of the woods to the boscom pool. It was damp, marshy ground, as is all that district, and there were marks of many feet to the short grass which bonded it on either side. Sometimes homes would hurry on, sometimes not dead, and once he made quiet a little detour into the meadow. Lestrade and I walked behind him,

the detective indifferent and contemptuous. While I watched my friend with interest, which sprang for the conviction, that every one of his actions was directed towards a definite end. The Boscombe pool, which is a little red girt sheet of water, some 50 yards across, is situated at the boundary between the Hathley Farm and the private park of the wealthy Mr. Turner. Above the woods which lined it upon the farther side we could see the red jetting pinnacles which marked the site of the rich landowners dwelling. On the haughty side of the pool the woods grew very thick and there was a narrow belt of sudden

grass 20 paces across between the edge of the trees and the reeds which lined in the lake. Lestrade showed us the exact spot at which the body had been found, so moist was the ground, that I could plainly see the traces which had been left by the fall of the stricken man. To Holmes, as I could see by his eager face, were to be read upon the trunk of grass. He ran round, like a dog who was picking up a scent. Did you go into the pool for? I fished about with the rake. I thought there might be some other weapon or other trace. But how on earth did you know that? Oh, tut-tut, I have no time. That left foot of yours, where this inward twist, is all over the place. A mould could trace it, and there it vanishes among the reeds. Oh, how simple it would have been,

had I been here before they came like a herd of buffalo, and wallowed all over the reeds. it. Here is where the party with the lodgekeeper came, and they have covered all tracks for six or eight feet around the body. But here are three separate tracks of the same feet. He drew out a lens and laid down upon the waterproof to have a better view, taking all the time rather to himself than to us. These are young McCarthy's feet. Twice he was walking, and once he ran swiftly, so that the souls are deeply marked, and the heels hardly visible. That bears out his story. He ran when he saw his father on the ground.

Then here are the father's feet, as he paced up and down. What is this then? It is the butt end of the gun, as the son stood listening, and this, her husband, her, what have we here? They come again. Of course that was for the cloak. Now where do they come from? He ran up and down, sometimes losing, sometimes finding the track, until we were well within the edge of the wood, and under the shadow of a great beach, but an artist drew in the neighborhood. Holmes traced his way to the farther side of this, and laid down once more upon his face with a little cry of satisfaction.

For a long time he remained there, turning over the leaves and dried steaks, gathering up what seemed to be dust into an envelope and examining with his lens not only the ground but even the bark of the tree as far as he could reach. A jagged stone was lying among the mus and this also he carefully examined and retained. Then he followed the pathway through the wood

until he came to the high road where all traces were lost. It must have been a case of considerable interest, he remarked returning to his natural manner. I fancy that this grey house on the right must be the lodge. I think that I will go in and have a word with Morrower. and perhaps write a little note. Having done that, we may drive back to our luncheon. You may walk to the cab and I shall be with you presently. It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab and drove back into Ross. Holmes was still carrying with him the stone which he picked up in the

wood. This may interest you, Lestrade, he remarked, holding it out. The murder was done with it. I see no marks. There are none. How did you know then? The grass was growing under it. It had lain here for a few days. There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken.

It corresponds with the injuries. There is no sign of any other murderer, said Lestrade. Is a tall man, left-handed, limps with the right leg wears thick-soled shooting boots and a grey cloak smokes Indian cigars uses a cigar holder

and carries a blunt pen there are several other indications but these may be enough to aid us in our search Lestrade laughed I'm afraid that I'm still a skeptic he said theories are all very well but we have to deal with a hard-head

British jewellery. New Veron, answered Holmes calmly, which meant we'll see in English. You'll work your own method, and I shall work mine. I shall be busy this afternoon, and shall probably return to London by the evening train. And leave your case and finished, Mastrade said. No, finished, retorted Holmes. But the mystery, it is solved. Who was the criminal then? The gentleman I described, Holmes calmly said. But who is he?

Surely it would not be difficult to find out. This is not such a populous neighbourhood. Mastrade shrugged his shoulders. I am a practical man, he said, and I really cannot undertake about going the country looking for a left-handed gentleman with a game leg. I should become the laughing-stock of Scotland Yard. All right, said Holmes quietly, I have given you the chance.

Here are your lodgings. Goodbye. I should drop you a line before I leave. Having left La Strade at his rooms, we drove to our hotel where we found lunch upon the table. Holmes was silent and buried in thought with a paint expression upon his face, as one who finds himself in a perplexing position. Look here, Watson, he said when the cloth was cleared. Just sit down in this chair and let me preach to you a little. I don't quite know what to do and I should value your advice.

Light a cigar and let me expound. Pray do so, I said. Well, now in considering this case, there are a time. two points about young McCarthy's narrative, which struck us both instantly, although they impressed me in his favour and knew against him. One was the fact that his father should, according to his account, cry coo-e before seeing him. The other was his singular dying reference to a rat. He mumbled several words you understand, but that was all that caught the son's ear from this double point, our research must commence, and we will begin it by presuming that what

the lad says is absolutely true. What about this coo-ee then, I said? Well, obviously, it could not have been meant for the sun. The sun as far as he knew was in Bristol. It was mere chance that he was within earshot. The co-ee was meant to attract the attention of whoever it was that he had the appointment with. The co-e is a distinctly Australian cry and one which is used between Australians. There is a strong presumption that the person whom Mr McCarthy expected to meet at Boscombe Pool was someone who had been in Australia. What of the rat then? I said. Sugar Combs took a folded paper from his pocket

and flattered it out on the table. This is a map of the colony of Victoria, he said. I wired to Bristol for it last night. He put his hand over part of the map. What do you read? I said aloud. He raised his hand, showing the full name. Ballarat, I said confusingly. Quite so, that was the word the man uttered, and of which his son only caught the last two

sinables. He was trying to utter the name of his murderer, so and so of Ballarat. It is wonderful, I exclaimed, it is obvious, and now you see I have narrowed the field down considerably, said Holmes. The possession of a grey garment was a third point. which granting the sun's statement to be correct was a certainty. We have now come out of mere vagueness to the definite conception of an Australian from Ballarat with a grey cloak.

Certainly, I said. And one who was at home in the district and can only be approached by the farm or by the estate where strangers could hardly wander, said Holmes excitedly. Quite so, I returned, comes our expedition of today. By an examination of the ground,

I gained the trifling details, which I gave to that imbecile astrade as to the personality of the criminal. But how did you gain them? I said, still a little confused. You know my method, said Holmes. it has founded upon the observation of trifles. His height, I know, might be roughly judged by the length of his stride.

His boots too might be told from their traces, I guessed. Yes, they were peculiar boots, said Holmes. But his lameness? The impression of his right foot was always less distinct from his left. He put less weight upon it. Why? Because he limbed. He was lame. And his left-handedness, I said. You were yourself struck by the nature of the injury,

as recorded by the surgeon at the inquest. The blow was struck from immediately behind, and yet was upon the left side. Now, how can that be unless it were by a left-handed man? He had stood behind that tree during the interview between the father and son. He had even smoked there. I found the ash of a cigar and my special knowledge of tobacco ashes enables me to pronounce as an Indian cigar.

I have, as you know, devoted some attention to this and written a little monograph on the ashes of 140 varieties of pipe cigar. and cigarette tobacco. Having found the ash, I then looked round and discovered the stump among the moss, where he had tossed it. It was an Indian cigar of the variety which are rolled in Rotterdam. And the cigar holder? I responded amazed. I could see that the end had not been in his mouth. Therefore he used a holder. The tip had been cut off. knocked bit enough, but the cut was not a clean one, so I deduced a blunt penknife. I said, you have drawn a net around this man from which he cannot escape, and you have saved an innocent human life, as truly as if you had cut the cord which was hanging him.

I see the direction in which all this points. The culprit is, Mr. John Turner, cried the hotel away. opening the door of our sitting room and ushering in a visitor before I could finish my sentence. The man who entered was a strange and impressive figure. His slow limping step and bowed shoulders gave the impression of decrepitude, and yet his hard, deep-lined, craggy features and his enormous limbs showed that he was possessed, of unusual strength of body and of character.

His tangled beard, grizzled hair, and outstanding drooping eyebrows combined to give an air of dignity and powed to his appearance, but his face was an ashen white, while his lips and the corners of his nostrils were tinged with a shade of blue. It was clear to me at a glance that he was in the grip of some deadly and crue. chronic disease. Pray sit down on the sofa, said Holmes gently. You had my note?

Yes, the lodgekeeper brought it up. You said you wish to see me here to avoid a scandal, he replied. I thought people would talk if I went to the hall, said Holmes. And why do you wish to see me? He looked across at my companion with dissoning. bear in his weary eyes, as though his question was already answered. Yes, said Holmes, answering the look rather than the words. It is so I know all about Mr. McCarthy. The old man sunk his face in his hands. God help me, he cried, but I would not have

let the young man come to harm. I give you my word that I would have spoken out. if it went against him at the assizes. I am glad to hear you say so, said Holmes gravely. I would have spoken now, had it not been for my dear girl. It would break her heart, it will break her heart, when she hears that I am arrested. It may not come to that, said Holmes. He said back, no official agent.

I understand it was your daughter who required my birth. presence here, and I am acting in her interests. Young McCarthy must be got off, however. I am a dying man, said Old Turner. I have had diabetes for years. My doctor says it is a question whether I shall live a month, yet I would rather die under my own roof than in a jail. Just tell the truth, he said. I shall chalk down the facts. You will sign it. and Watson here can witness it. Then I could produce your confession at their last extremity to save young McCarthy.

I promise you that I shall not use it unless it is absolutely needed. It's all well, said the old man. It's a question whether I shall live to the Assizes. So it matters little to me. I should wish to spare Alice the shop. And now I will make the thing clear to you. It has been a long time in the acting, but will not take me long to tell you.

You didn't know this dead man, McCarthy. He was a devil incarnate. I tell you that. God, keep you out of the clutches of such a man as he. His grip has been upon me these 20 years, and he has blasted my life. I'll tell you first how I came to be in his power. It was in the early 60s at my diggings. I was a young man then, hot-blooded and reckless, ready to turn my hand at anything.

I got among bad companions, took to drink, had no luck with my claim, took to the bush, and in a word became what you would call over here, a highway robber. Six of us, and we had a wild free life of it, sticking up a sea. station from time to time or stopping the wagons on the road to the diggings. Blackjack of Ballarat was the name I went under, and our party is still remembered in the colony as the Ballarat gang. One day a gold convoy came down from Ballarat to Melbourne, and we lay in wait for it and attacked it. There were six troopers and six of us. It was a close thing, but we emptied four of their saddles at the first folly. Three of our boys were killed,

however, before we got the swag. I put my pistol to the head of the wagon driver, who was this very man, McCarthy. I wished to the Lord that I had shot him then, but I spared him, though I saw his wicked little eyes fixed on my face, as though to remember every feature. We got away with the gold, became wealthy men, and made our way over to England without being suspected, partied from my old pals, determined to settle down to a quiet and respectable life. I bought this estate, which chance to be in the market, and I sent myself to do a little good with my money, to make up for the way in which I had earned it. I married too, and though my wife died young,

She left me my dear little Alice. Even when she was just a baby, her wee hand seemed to lead me down the right path, as nothing else had ever done. In a word, I turned over a new leaf and did my best to make up for the past. All was going well when McCarthy laid his grip upon me. I had gone up to town about an investment,

and met him in Regent Street with hardly a coat to his back or a boot to his foot. Here we are, Jack, says he, touching me on the arm. We'll be good as family to you. There's two of us, me and my son, and you can have the keeping of us.

If you don't, it's fine. Law abiding country is England and there's always a policeman within hail. Well down they came to the West Country. There was no shaking them off, and they have lived rent-free on my best land ever since. There was no rest for me, no peace, no forgetfulness. Turn where I could. There he was his cunning face, grinning at my elbow. It grew worse as Addas grew up, for he soon saw I was afraid of her knowing my past and of the police. Whatever he wanted he must have, and whatever it was I gave him without question, land, money, houses, until at last he asked for a thing I could not give up. He asked for Alice. His son, you see, had grown up and so had my girl, and I was known to be in weak health. It seemed a fine stroke to him that his lad would step into his son.

to the whole property, but there I was firm. I would not have his cursed stock mixed with mine. Not that I had any dislike to the lad, but his blood was in him and that was enough. I stood firm. McCarthy threatened. I braved him to do the worst. We were to meet at the pool midway between our houses to talk it over. When I went down there, I found him talking with his son, so I smoked a cigar and waited behind a tree until he should be alone. But as I listened to his talk, all that was black and bitter in me seemed to come uppermost. He was urging his son to marry my daughter, with a little regard for what she might think, as if she were a slut of the streets. It drove me mad to think that I and all that I

held most dear, should be in the power of such a man of this. Could I not snap the bond? I was already a dying and desperate man. No clear of mind and fairly strong of limb, I knew that my fate was sealed, but my memory and my girl, both could be saved if I could but silence that foul to Mr. Holmes. I would do it again. Deeply as I have sinned, I have led a life of Martyrton to atone for it, but that my girl should be entangled in the same meshes which held me was more than I could suffer. I struck him down with no more compunction that if he had been some foul and venomous beast, his cry brought back his son, but I had gained the cover of the wood.

though I was forced to go back to fetch the cloak which I had dropped in my flight. That is the true story, gentlemen. Of all that occurred. Well, it is not for me to judge you, said Holmes, as the man signed the statement, we should be drawn out. I pray that we may never be exposed to such a temptation. I pray not, sir, and what's not, sir, and what's not. you intend to do. In view of your health, nothing. You are yourself aware that you will soon

have to answer for your deed at a higher court than the assizes. I will keep your confession, and if Mr. McCarthy is condemned, I shall be forced to use it. If not, it shall never be seen by mortal eye, and your secret, whether you be alive or dead, shall be safe with us. said the old man, solemnly easier for the thought of the peace which you have given to mine. Tottering and shaking in all his giant frame, he stumbled slowly from the room. God help us, said Holmes after a long silence. Why does faked play such tricks with poor, helpless worms? I never hear of such a case as this that I do not think of Baxter's words,

and say, but for the grace of God, go Sherlock Holmes. James McCarthy was acquitted at the Assizes on the strength of a number of objections which had been drawn out by Holmes and submitted to the Defending Council and lived for seven months after our interview, but he's now dead. And there is every prospect that the son and daughter

may come to live happily together in ignorance of the black cloud which rests upon their past.